The somewhat hilarious case for diversity in journalism

Crashing the wrong party turned into a reminder of the harsh reality of the journalism industry

I‘m always the only Black person or one of just a handful of people of color in most journalism gatherings I attend.

It can be uncomfortable.

Now imagine my excitement when I went to a journalism gala earlier this year and walked into a sea of Black people dressed to kill. And you know if you ask Black people to dress up, it’s so very on.

Allow me to digress for a second here: If you see a Black man wearing shoes that show his ankles without socks, just know he planned that look carefully. Follow him. That’s the party you want to be at.

Back to the story.

I thought to myself as I looked around: “Wow, so many Black journalists; where have they been all this time? Why don’t I know anyone of them?”

Didn’t matter. I was happy. I was comfortable. I texted my husband in excitement.

My host — her company had paid for a table —was running late so I decided to grab a glass of wine and mingle freely in the meantime.

Everyone I talked to was associated with a particular college rather than a news outlet. Strange, but not out of the realm of possibilities. I recognized most of the college names as HBCUs.

Then I ran into an old source of mine, an older black gentleman I thought had long retired since I’d last talked with him almost a decade earlier. I was delighted to see him. We hugged and caught up on life, glasses of wine in hand. I asked what he was doing at this journalism event.

“I’m so happy to see so many Black journalists here. Where have they been all this time?” I said.

He gently placed his arms around my shoulders and laughed so hard.

“You’re in the wrong place, but I’m glad you came so we could run into each other,” he said.

He told me he works with United Negro College Fund. I was the United Negro College Fund’s 79th annual gala. The blackest of black events. He pointed across the hallway.

That’s where the cocktail hour for the Radio, Television Digital News Association’s First Amendment awards ceremony was happening.

Off I ran with my stolen glass of wine to the ball room across where, like countless other times, I’d take a quick look across the room, make mental note of the demographics, and look for a friendly face as I wished for the day my profession would look more like the world it covers.